Granting Life
by SmoochiePooh
Summary: Julie POV from the fall out of the Stadium onward. Hopefully, will fill in some gaps between when she and R face down Rosso and when the zombies are allowed into the Stadium. Also, I wanted more R and Julie fluff.


**Author's Note: I don't own Warm Bodies or any of the characters from it. I just wanted to see some of the story from Julie's perspective and to fill in some of the blanks. **

"_Dad's dead, Rosy. He just hasn't started rotting yet." _

I have been fighting this truth for so long, but as the words cross my lips, I know they are the most truthful I've been in months, maybe years. It makes me want to cry and I grab R's hand tightly to remind myself that there is still hope. I look up at his painted face, half his make-up is smeared, giving him a lopsided look. His eyes are fixed on mine and the expression in them nearly takes my breath away.

"Well, R?"

He doesn't hesitate a moment. Before I know what's happening I'm in his arms, face to face, crushed into him so tightly that I think he's going to pull me right under his skin and into his heart. I am breathless now. His face is so close to mine, closer than it's ever been and just as I think he's about to kiss me, my feet are off the ground and he is falling backwards out the door.

I want to scream, but the air is rushing into my mouth and up my nose, ripping my head back and away from the crook of R's neck. I'm vaguely aware of his legs wrapping around me. I'm cradled against him, and as we plummet through the air I feel a little better knowing that when we hit the ground, I'll die with him around me. I bury my face in his chest and wait for impact.

He grunts as we bounce off of something. A second later his chin collides with my skull as his head is forced forward. For an instant we are slowly down as we come into contact with some sort of fabric, but our velocity forces us through it.

We are weightless. The ground is never going to meet us. We should have hit it by now. I feel like my skin is going to rip from my muscles, like my soul is becoming detached from my body, like we are two seconds away from being able to fly.

And then we hit the ground.

Well, R hits the ground. I can feel his ribs snapping beneath me, cushioning me from the impact. I am, miraculously, unhurt. Except I can't breath. At all. The impact has knocked what little air there was in my lungs out of them. I push myself off of him, feeling lightheaded and numb. My canvas bag is still at my side. Amazing. I scramble for my inhaler, gasping as the medication opens my air ways and oxygen rushes back in. I take a few deep breaths, thanking God that I probably won't be alive tomorrow to be sore from all of this.

It takes me a second to realize that R still hasn't moved. I cringe in horror as I remember feeling his bones breaking beneath my hands. Did his skull break? Even if it didn't, we can't continue our escape if all of his bones are broken.

"R?" My voice barely comes out as whisper, and I can't tell if it's because I am having a hard time breathing still or if it's because I'm choking back tears. His eyes are bright and his head doesn't look like it was crushed on impact. He holds my gaze and I try to smile. "Hey!"

Ever so slowly, he pries himself from the ground. I lean back on my heels and watch him rise. I can hear the faint cracking of his bones, but he is surprisingly erect considering how broken he must be. I rise with him, amazed at what I'm seeing. He smiles at me and surprises me by starting to sing:

"You make...me feel so young..."

His voice is dry as a leaf, but there is an underlying beauty in it that delights me to my core. I can't help but laugh and throw myself at him, wrapping myself around him. In the midst of this chaotic mess, his ever-quickening wit is beautiful. For a split second I think that he is going to kiss me again. I'm no longer surprised by how okay I am with that, with how comfortable and safe I am in his arms, with how much I want him to kiss me. He is no longer a zombie in my eyes.

My ability to linger in a moment was disabled long ago. We are still in danger, at least for the moment. I glance up at the door we just fell out of. It takes me a moment to register the height. I want to crow with joy that we are still alive. Instead, I wave to Rosy. He doesn't appear to share my jubilation and rushes back inside. I can almost hear him shouting commands into his walkie.

And then we run.

As we run, R begins to change. Ever so slightly, with every step, he is straightening. His steps are more sure and his left leg doesn't drag behind him as much as it used to. His grip on my hand is strong and warm, warmer than I've ever felt it. There is color creeping into his cheeks. I keep getting distracted by these changes, keep looking at him instead of at the ground, and I trip several times. Each time, he catches me before I have a chance to self-correct-his reflexes are improving. By the time we reach the freeway, he's matching me step for step. I'm so flabbergasted by this new posture of his, that I don't notice him stop, and I run into his back.

As I step out from behind him, the apology I was about to make dies on my lips. There are hundreds of zombies massed next to the ramps. When they notice us, they collectively still, as if they're all playing a game of Simon Says and Simon has commanded them to freeze. And then, Simon has commanded them to look at us, and they turn as unit until hundreds, maybe even thousands, of eyes rest on us. It's an incredible sight, almost funny in a I-feel-like-a-really-insignificant-appetizer sort of way. I look up at R, raising my eyebrows. Before he can react, there is a ripple in the zombie mass, like a pebble pushing it's way through water, and a huge, bald zombie makes his way to the front of the crowd.

"M," R says, his voice a touch less raspy that normal.

"R," the behemoth replies. He nods in my direction, "Julie."

I do my best to maintain my manners, but I can't help but slip a little closer to R as I stutter on a "Hiiii..."

Before they can say anything else, Rosso and his mobile army come into view. M and the others join us at the top of the hill. We are enveloped into their ranks and we become the center point for the group. Years of well-trained survival instincts rear up in me and I press myself close to R in an attempt not to run away screaming.

As the ranks close, I can see that they have changed too. They are all standing straighter, though none as tall and straight as R, and most of their faces are free of blood. They are different too. R is right, things are changing. I can't come to grips with the fact that _we_ are the change. I fix my eyes on the mobile army that's coming closer. The four vehicles that have been sent after us look pitiful in comparison the real army at my back. But I know that they will take me back to the land of the living, drag me back, even if I'm kicking and screaming. My eyes dart to the Stadium, the steel wall in the heart of the city. I can't go back to that cage.

Rosey has stepped out of the Tahoe, clutching his rifle for dear life. As he realizes that the group behind me isn't a trick of the light, he slowly lowers his gun. He looks terrified and I can understand his fear. I step out slightly in front of R, unaware that I'm putting myself between his heart and the gun until I feel his hand on the small of my back.

"I'm sorry, Rosey," I feel like I'm screaming, but my voice comes out in a steady, even cry. "I can't do it any more, okay? It's a fucking like. We think we're surviving in there, but we're _not_."

He's scanning the crowd behind me. I can tell he wasn't expecting this. He's seeing the changes I've noticed, but that he can't quite come to grips with it. But he knows something is different.

"You can't change the world by yourself! Come back and we can discuss this!"

I know that it's a lie. That if I go back, whatever has happened with be shut down, that my dad will lock me up in my bedroom or force me to shoot caged zombies until my mind has gone numb. And he's wrong. The world is changing. I don't even know if it's changing because of me yet. They are saving themselves as far as I'm concerned.

"I'm not by myself." My arms spread wide as I gesture to the huge mass around me. "I'm with these guys."

Rosey has had enough. He doesn't say another word, just hops back into the Tahoe and speeds back towards the Stadium. The other vehicles follow take off after him, but more than one of their passengers is peering over his shoulder, staring at us as they disappear back into the city. I know they will be back. There's no way my father will let them get away with coming back without me. Nor will he allow so many zombies to be in such near proximity to the city.

I step back into the ranks, leaning into R's side as I look around. His arm wraps itself around my shoulders, pulling me closer. I am strangely calm, considering the circumstances.

"Well," I begin, "now what?"

He looks baffled and I can relate. It feels like we're in a movie, like we're living the alternate ending that was cut from the final production. We should be dead and we both know it. What can we possibly do now?

R doesn't have to answer me, the others are in control now. They are all around us, groaning lightly, pushing at each other to get closer. Their hands are outstretched, each one pushing and shoving. Their fingers reach for me. I can feel, rather than hear, the low growl rising in R's throat as he presses me closer to his body, curling himself protectively around me. But they don't want to hurt me. Their hands brush my arms, my face, my hair. They just want the _contact_.

I take an experimental step away from R's protective crouch, and extend my hand to touch them back. There are murmurs of appreciation from those I connect with. I glance up at R and see recognition dawn on his face. He loosens his grip until he is merely holding my hand. We take a few more steps into the crowd. The mold around us, all of them still reaching for me, but I am strangely peaceful. R feels it too, like him, they recognize that I am human and delicate. I become more empowered with the realization that they won't intentionally hurt me.

"Hi," I say, making eye contact as I reach out my hand. "Hello, how are you?"

They don't respond, not really. But I can see a light in their eyes as I speak to them. Once I've touched one, he makes way for another to take his place. Ever so slowly we make our way through the crowd, R right behind me, growling softly if one of them gets too enthusiastic. M follows us at a distance, a silent body guard.

By the time we make it to the edge of the freeway ramp, the sun is setting, and my voice is cracking. R has noticed my discomfort and all but carries me to a crumbling retaining wall. M hangs back, staving off the others with a stern expression on his face.

"Sit. Rest."

Once I'm off my feet and my back is resting against the wall, the exhaustion overtakes me. I feel like maybe they are beginning to rub off on me, like I am a little bit dead now. R is kneeling in front of me, searching my face, slightly hesitant.

"You need food."

There is a packet of dry Carbtein powder in my bag, and a canteen of water. I savor a sip before I add water to the powder. The paste it forms is awful and gritty, but it will sustain me for the several hours. R watches me carefully.

"Would you like some?" I ask, offering him a lump of Carbtein. He cocks his head to one side and carefully takes it from me. When he pops it in his mouth I have to laugh at his expression.

"Awful," he mutters around the lump in his mouth. And then he grins at me, "Awful, but..."

"But preferable to brains?" I finish for him.

He nods and sinks back on his heels. I suddenly feel shy. Our lives are not in immediate danger, but I still want to hold his hand, to touch him. I try to distract myself.

"They'll be back, you know."

"Yeah," he scoots up to the wall and settles down beside me. We spend a few minutes taking in the crowd in front of us. Three more of them have taken up spots around M, forming a perimeter between us and the crowd.

"What will we do?" My voice sounds small.

"I don't...know. Not yet." He looks over at me and reaches out to push my hair out of my face. "You're tired. _I'm _tired. We should...sleep."

He pats his lap, his eyes almost bold. "Lay...down. Rest. M will watch."

I slowly obey him. Once my head has settles on his lap, he shrugs out of his blazer and drapes it over my shoulders. His torso warms my neck and back, and his hands are ever-so-gently smoothing my hair.

He starts to say something to me, but I am asleep before he finishes his sentence.


End file.
